


Hana Song

by mizutsunecafe



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: And so do jack and reinhardt and it's not fun for anyone involved, Gen, Hana has PTSD, One graphic death described, but that's really it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 03:27:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8873980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizutsunecafe/pseuds/mizutsunecafe
Summary: Hana knows that she can't be the only one who's haunted by her fallen friends and defeated foes, but some nights it feels that way.





	

She stands outside of the doorway, memories of battles past wracking her poor brain. Sleepless nights turned into coffee-filled mornings one too many times, and the panic attacks when she woke from brief sleeps were never welcome. 

So now one Hana Song stood outside the mess hall, hearing two others talking about war stories. Things that they would call her “too young” to listen to.

They didn’t want her to have to hear things that they thought she couldn’t withstand. But just the same, they didn’t know all the things she’d seen. 

Morrison paused and took a sip of something in a mug- from the scent that wafted through the vent over the door, she guessed it was chamomile tea. He began discussing a mission that he’d had a recent episode remembering- one where his entire strike team, save for him, Ana, Ziegler, and a handful of other soldiers were killed because of a slip of his judgement. 

Reinhardt made a sound of understanding, and when Hana peered in through the window, she saw him nod. He began to talk about Eichenwalde, explaining the horrors he’d seen- and why the city had never recovered. Once an ancient and bustling town, once the war between human and ominic had reached it any hope for human or artificial life was dashed.

They talked about the younger ones on their teams. How they didn’t understand yet just how heavy a toll war takes on your soul. How they wished they could keep the young ones from the fighting. 

Hana hears her name dropped a time or two.

She opens the door, it creaking slightly under her touch. In her fluffy onesie pajamas and her bunny slippers, Hana Song doesn’t look an inch a warrior. But without her face paint and makeup and armor, she looks much older.

Morrison and Reinhardt both force smiles, pretending they weren’t just talking about a topic that weighed upon them like tons of bricks, asking her if she couldn’t sleep, they’d make her some tea.

“Ten thousand,” she says simply, and they look at one another quizzically. “My record is ten thousand ominics in one run,” she clarifies.

They’re silent as she goes to make her tea, putting the mug with her name on it in the microwave and getting a teabag out. 

“… In my first mission, I was being shown the ropes by a girl a lot like Zarya. I… I called her unnie. Big sis.”

There was a pause. The microwave beeped, and Hana sat down moments later with her tea.

“She was killed. An ominic shattered her Meka’s hood and smashed her to bits. They… they couldn’t even recover her body.”

Reinhardt’s mug snapped out of his hand- the handle had broken off. Both men stared in horror at her. Had she not been recalling one of the more traumatic memories she’d had, perhaps she would have laughed.

“… Your first mission?” Morrison asks, his voice sounding almost hurt.

“… Yep. I lost her. And it wasn’t the last time. There’s a reason I’m one of the only ones they let go out on missions.”

She takes a long sip of her tea, feeling the warmth from the liquid filling her stomach. Slowly, she felt more at ease.

“… How much did you hear?” Reinhardt asks, and her expression not wavering was enough to tell him she’d heard every word. 

“Sorry, Song.” Morrison reaches a hand out to pat her back instinctively, but stops, waiting for her permission- she gave it with a nod. “… You’re just so damn young.”

There was more to what he said, Hana was sure, but she didn’t want to press. A story for another night, she’s sure.

“I know I am,” Hana says, her voice somewhere between proud and sorrowful. 

Now he ruffles her hair, and the group falls into a silence- comfortable now. 

A small smile tugs on Hana’s lips, and she glances between the two men at the table with her before looking back down at her tea, sighing for a moment.

“… It’s… comforting knowing I’m not alone.”

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this tumblr post here http://jezi-belle.tumblr.com/post/152252699339/dont-get-me-wrong-for-fandom-hijinks-i-dearly


End file.
